


Take me to a Gay Bar

by Evilchuckles



Series: Miss Gingerpaws Series [15]
Category: Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Humour, M/M, PWP, Romance, Smut, gay stereotypes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-08-01 04:39:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16277984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evilchuckles/pseuds/Evilchuckles





	Take me to a Gay Bar

“You want to go where?”

Near glanced at him, from behind his laptop, “I said that I would like to try the famous homosexual establishment next to the Mexican restaurant.”

Gevanni winced. He had never liked the term ‘gay bar’, which he found patronising but he had just realised that at least it was better than ‘homosexual establishment’. 

“But why?” He asked, completely nonplussed, “You hate socialising.”

“That’s not true.” Near objected, mildly. “I often attend the sandwich shop with Lidner and I went to that party of your friend’s that time.”

Gevanni had to rack his brains for a minute before remembering the school reunion six months previously. 

It would have been so nice if Near could have _not_ told people, “I’m Gevanni’s boyfriend. I’m also his boss. He is very successful in both roles. I’ve heard that people like to brag about themselves at events such as this so I’ve printed up a handout of Gevanni’s most notable achievements (allowing for The Official Secrets Act, of course) to save time. I am especially pleased with items 7, 4 and 15.”  
Although Gevanni had to admit that, after the public humiliation, shouting and their being asked to leave the reunion RIGHT NOW, he had squirreled away a copy of the handout and secretly read it sometimes, when he was feeling paranoid, because it was the closest Near would ever get to romance.

_4- Gevanni is efficient, calm and stoical in the workplace. I know I can rely on him. I don’t rely on people easily. Gevanni is only the second individual in my experience to inspire that. The other one is dead._

_7- Gevanni is an extremely accomplished lover, although strangely cautious when I have a new idea. Gevanni can make me orgasm repeatedly, which is most pleasant._

_15- Extensive and long term evidence from multiple quarters has confirmed that I am not normal. Gevanni is very patient with this._

“But that was last year!” Gevanni managed after the gooey feeling subsided.

“I was not correcting you as regards frequency of socialisation but refuting your statement that I ‘hate’ it. I don’t hate it. I dislike it strongly, possibly resent, but not hate. And it’s necessary to interact with the public in contexts other than serial killer pursuit or I’ll lose my character judgement acuity.”

“Er...OK?” Gevanni had started to glaze over halfway through that. 

It didn’t really explain why a man whose idea of a good Saturday night was to build an airfix kit while watching Doctor Who, suddenly wanted to hit the Scene, or why he would chose the most notorious pickup joint in the city’s gay community to do it. But Gevanni had found that it was unwise to try to understand everything Near did. That way madness lay.

“We’ll go this Saturday then,” Near nodded, picking up Mrs Gingerpaws Butterfield, who was yowling unhappily about something, investigating and then methodically disentangling a lego brick from her fur. 

She glared at him and stalked off. He watched her go with a bewildered expression. “Cats are very demanding and confusing, aren’t they.”

“Yeah,” Gevanni hid a smile as Near went back to his work, “Worth it though.”

 

On Saturday there was a short delay in their leaving the flat because Gevanni had to convince Near that white pyjamas were not an appropriate fashion choice for a gay bar. And Gevanni had to do this without saying that Near was going to have enough trouble getting past the bouncer and convincing people that he was over twenty one; going as Andy Pandy wouldn’t help. 

Eventually Near bowed to Gevanni’s better sartorial judgement and changed, a bit grumpily, into jeans and a white shirt.

Gevanni sighed. Now Near just looked like Andy Pandy trying to get into a gay bar.

Oh well.

The bar itself was pretty standard. Gevanni had frequented a few like it in the old days, back when his relationships lasted slightly longer than the milk in the fridge and he’d been happy with that.   
Near made a bee line for the nearest available booth (which hadn’t been available until Near stood and looked inscrutably at the occupants, who seemed to get uncomfortable being stared at by what looked like a gay choir boy, and left) and Gevanni resigned himself to the scrum for drinks. 

It took nearly fifteen minutes. He had forgotten how crowded such places got on a Saturday. He’d been inadvertently elbowed in the ribs twice, had to yell his order three times, and nearly spilt beer on his shoes when the couple snogging nearby got too enthusiastic and fell into him. Meanwhile the music was trying to drill a hole in his head and he was suddenly feeling really, really old.

Perhaps all this distracted him from working out what would be bound to happen to Near, alone, in a gay bar, looking cute and expectant and vulnerable.

When he got back to the booth it was to hear the following,

“What’s a nice boy like you doing in a place like this?”

“I am waiting for my boyfriend to bring me a drink. What are _you_ doing in a place like this?”

“I’m here to lure cute young men away from their boyfriends.”

“Really? I can’t believe you’ll have much success in that. Is that a toupee?” 

Gevanni took the opportunity to kick the bastard in his shin as he stormed off. 

“That’s the third time someone has bothered me.” Near said, reproachfully, as he took his glass of wine and Gevanni sat down.

“Sorry. There was a big queue for drinks. Where are the other men who tried to chat you up? Can I kill them?”

“Please don’t. If you took up murder I would only have to conceal it from the authorities and that would be tedious.” Near sipped his drink.

They spent awhile watching the world go by. Or, more accurately, watching the world drinking, dancing, smoking, laughing and pulling. Gevanni bet Near a new computer game that the man at the next table was wearing a corset, knowing full well that they’d never be able to prove it one way or the other, only to discover that he’d forgotten who he was talking to, when Near accepted the bet, leaned over and said, “Excuse me. I want a new computer game and I’ve spent all my wages on lego this month. So could you tell me if you’re wearing a corset?”

The man burst into tears and ran off.

“I think that’s a yes,” Near said, nodding.

Gevanni would have banged his head on the table but it was too sticky.

Fifteen minutes later the man came back and Gevanni took a moment to Explain Near (a process which he was, sadly, really good at now) and smoothed things over to the point where they ended up chatting enjoyably to Corset Man and his friends for most of the evening. Near’s earnest apology helped, as did Gevanni buying three rounds of scarily camp cocktails which had plastic monkeys copulating on the edge of the glass.

“All these monkey are males,” Near remarked. “Is this bar being ironic or do they mean it?”

“I think they mean it,” Corset Man told him, a bit drunkenly. “It’s why this place is so popular. It’s like, it’s like, it’s so bad it’s good! It’s like the owner got all his information about queers from straight high school boys.”

Gevanni laughed.

Near looked like he didn’t get it. 

But then, he hardly went to a normal school and had probably never encountered homophobia or stereotyping first hand. 

And then it hit Gevanni, why Near had chosen this place. 

With his zero Scene knowledge and his one and only real boyfriend, and his bizarre genius life, Near really _didn’t_ know about being gay. He didn’t know that there was any other way to socialise than in places like this. Not that Gevanni didn’t like camp fun now and then, but he also knew that there were a lot of gay men who would cringe at the very sight of a glitterball. 

Gevanni only had to look at Near to know that Near was one of them.

Near was bored and uncomfortable and really wanted to go home but he was patiently drinking his overly sweet, sodomising monkey, drink because he thought he was supposed to be enjoying it.

Gevanni smiling embarrassingly fondly. He leaned over, kissed Near’s earlobe, and whispered, “You want to get out of here?”

Near looked at him, “You’re having a good time. We should stay.”

“Nah,” Gevanni said, “I’m ready to go if you are.”

Near frowned, “You’re just saying that because you know I’m bored!”

Gevanni shrugged, “What difference does that make?”

“Tonight’s not about me!” Near told him, crossly.

Suddenly Gevanni was grinning from ear to ear and really needed to go home, right this minute because Near, it was now obvious, had suggested this whole evening for Gevanni’s benefit, perhaps remembering some of Gevanni’s ‘when I was young and wild and drank all night’ stories, and it made Gevanni want to kiss Near’s face off. 

“I’ve had a great evening, met some fun people and got moderately drunk. It’s enough.” Gevanni told him.

Near gave in, shoulders slumping, and they bid farewell to Corset Man and his friends and the plastic monkeys, and found a taxi.

Home.

Back in the flat Near sighed and kicked off his shoes at once. He looked intensely relieved. 

“You only suggested this evening for my benefit, didn’t you,” Gevanni said, tugging Near into his arms and kissing the end of his nose because he knew it annoyed the hell out of him. Also there was   
nowhere that Gevanni didn’t like to kiss Near.

“Don’t kiss my nose! I’ve told you before! And yes, alright, I didn’t really want to go anywhere. There was an original Star Trek marathon on TV tonight which I would much rather have watched.” Near extricated himself and wandered into the bedroom.

“So why put yourself through it?” Gevanni enquired, following Near to bed (having first evicted Mrs Gingerpaws from it). He stumbled a little. He wasn’t used to drinking these days.

Near was already in his pyjamas and getting into bed. He too looked a bit bleary. “We always stay in when we’re not chasing serial killers or being nearly blown up or buying groceries and lego. I thought you probably get bored a lot. You used to go to clubs and bars. You told me about it. So I thought we should go.”

“Hey, Near?”

“Yes?”

“How tired and drunk are you?”

“Why?”

“Because I really want to be inside you. Now.”

Near’s breath stuttered with shock and then a slow grin stole across his face. He tugged his shirt over his head again. “You’re very forthright when you’re drunk, Gevanni.”

Gevanni pulled him forward and kissed him until their lungs hurt and they had to wrench in breath. Near smelt of alcohol and cigarettes but underneath that, just of Near, and as always Gevanni was so turned on that he had to resist an urge to just grind his way to release against Near’s hip, or his warm hand, or _god_ into his willing mouth.

Not that those were _bad_ ways to come but tonight Gevanni wanted everything. 

Sometime later Near was on his back, legs spread, moaning and thrusting down to meet Gevanni’s fingers, and Gevanni was trying to be patient. Really, really, trying. 

Fortunately just before Gevanni caved and started begging Near opened his impossibly dark eyes and said,

“I’m ready. I want you.”

Gevanni felt a wash of sensation, of _need_ , at that and sank into Near’s arms and into his body in one slow slide.

“Yes...” Near breathed.

Gevanni’s groan sounded almost like it came from someone else then.

He pulled back.

And thrust.

Aching, wet, hot, so familiar and yet always thrilling, that Near let him do this. Only him. And that Near liked it, enjoyed it, spread his legs for it. 

Gevanni made love to him indulgently, the alcohol allowing just enough of a reduction in body response to keep them from losing control as quickly as they usually did. 

Long, slow, sweet.

Moving inside Near, listening to his gasps and sighs and, gradually, little groans of desperation.

“Please, Gevanni, please...”

“Tell me what you want..” Gevanni was panting. He was getting closer too now.

“Harder, faster. Please _let me come_.” Near’s fingers were digging into Gevanni’s back.

Gevanni abandoned control willingly. 

He thrust more forcefully, so that Near threw a hand up to brace himself on the bed rail, and wrapped his legs around Gevanni’s waist, holding him close.

Gevanni could feel Near’s erection, stiff and wet, sliding against his belly.

“Near...”

When Gevanni came he almost yelled because it felt like being turned inside out. The world stopped.

It was only when smallish but angry hands began beating at his head that he realised that he’d come before Near had.

Blushing with contrition he gently pulled out and slid down Near’s body and took him into his mouth.

All the way.

And pushed three fingers deep inside where Near was wet with Gevanni’s come (and the thought of that reality made Gevanni’s spent body burn almost painfully).

Near cried out and came almost at once, his fingers pulling some of Gevanni’s hair out, his toes curling into the mattress.

Gevanni kept sucking and licking and teasing until Near pleaded for mercy.

They fell asleep without even managing to have a shower.

 

So Gevanni awoke to a vicious hangover and the words, “Gevanni, I’m all sticky! Run me a bath.”

He threw a pillow at Near.

And went back to sleep.

Near sulked about this for several hours until Gevanni recovered from his hangover sufficiently to run his bath, with bubbles.

In fact, Near stopped sulking to the point where Gevanni decided to join him in it.

Lying in the hot water with Near in his arms, all slick and warm, Gevanni was entirely content if they never left the flat again.

Which, because you could never be sure, might have been Near’s plan all along.


End file.
